It was the day after Christmas at a church in San Francisco. The pastor of the church was looking over the cradle when he noticed that the baby Jesus was missing from among the figures. Immediately he turned and went outside and saw a little boy with a red wagon, and in the wagon was the figure of the little infant, Jesus.

 

So he walked up to the boy and said, "Well, where did you get Him, my fine friend?"

 

The little boy replied, "I got him from the church."

 

"And why did you take him?"

 

The boy said, "Well, about a week before Christmas I prayed to the little Lord Jesus and I told him if he would bring me a red wagon for Christmas I would give him a ride around the block in it."

 

 

 

 

Once upon a time, a perfect man and a perfect woman met. After a perfect courtship, they had a perfect wedding. Their life was, of course "perfect." 
       
One snowy, stormy Christmas Eve, this perfect couple was driving their perfect car (a SUV) along a winding road, when they noticed someone at the side of the road in distress. Being the perfect couple they stopped to help. 
       
There stood Santa Claus with a huge bundle of toys. Not wanting to disappoint any children on the eve of Christmas, the perfect couple loaded Santa and his toys into their vehicle. Soon they were driving along delivering the toys. 
       
Unfortunately, the driving conditions deteriorated and the perfect couple and Santa Claus had an accident. Only one of them survived the accident. 
       
Who was the survivor? 
       

The perfect woman survived. She's the only one who really existed in the first place. Everyone knows there is no Santa Claus and there is no such thing as a perfect man. 
       
So, if there is no perfect man and no Santa Claus, the perfect woman must have been driving. This explains why there was an accident.

 

 

 

 

On Christmas eve, my nine-year old son, David, was getting the milk and cookies ready for Santa. He asked if he could also put a beer out in case Santa wanted one, and my husband agreed, getting a chuckle out of the idea.

 

The next morning, David came tearing into our room, excited that Santa had come. Urging us to follow, he ran to the kitchen to show us the half-full bottle of beer. "See! There really is a Santa," he said
excitedly, "because Dad would have drunk the whole thing!"

 

 

 

 

'Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibbled, the eggnog I'd taste
At the holiday parties had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).
I'd remember the marvelous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The punch and the candy, the bread and the cheese
And the way I'd not said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt---
I said to myself, as I only can
"You can't spend a winter disguised as a man!"
So--away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
"Till all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won't have a cookie--not even a lick.
I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore---
But isn't that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!